What Friends Are For
by PoppyPotter
Summary: "A true friend never gets in your way unless you happen to be going down." Two chapters about times when James and Sirius helped each other through hard times; Sirius needs to believe he isn't Black and James needs to stop the self-blame.
1. Chapter 1

**What Friends are For**

* * *

_**"A true friend never gets in your way unless you happen to be going down."**_

* * *

It was one of those summer days that usually saw them high upon their brooms and in the midst of an exceedingly energetic game of Qudditch, a game that more often than not involved too many fouls to count and even fouler language (they were each keen to profess their own excellence and the others ineptitude at the beloved sport). They would finish hours later sweaty and still good-naturedly arguing about who had committed the most fouls (_Sirius, of course_) and then they would lounge around (no doubt being loud and annoying to other occupants of the house) and try to hide the bottle of Ogdens they had managed to sneak from his father's office…but despite the fact that the weather was perfect for Qudditch (not _too_ much sun, just the _right_ amount of wind) they were, for once, not up in the air.

In fact, the two boys, James Potter and Sirius Black, inseparable since the day they had shared a train compartment, were for once, neither laughing nor talking to each other; it could be called a product of growing up but it could also be seen (and probably was) merely the after effects of a betrayal of friendship, forgiveness, and a sick Black family. Whatever it was, it formed the reason for James Potter trudging through the dense mass of trees behind his house, his eyes uncharacteristically fixed downwards and his shoulders slumped (Lily Evans would have been shocked into silence_)_ whilst Sirius Black sat crouched in a cave (more than likely highly inebriated).

This was not them; this was not the Sirius Black and James Potter that everyone knew, not the James Potter and Sirius Black they themselves knew- _those_ two boys would have been flying high in the sky making the most of the rare British sun…But they had fought, fought more times in the past month than in the past five years altogether and well, it had led to this.

James still fighting his way through trees went over the latest of these arguments. It had not been nice and it also had not been _his_ fault; he was resolute in that belief. Sirius should have come to him, Sirius should have knocked at his door at twelve, or two or four in the bloody morning and told him what had happened- he should have known James would not question or judge, he should have known that he would be welcomed…but he had chosen the cave and he had had the damn nerve to think James would not figure it out, would not turn up demanding _just what the hell he was doing_…

There had been some shouting James remembered and maybe a punch or two. He flinched slightly at the memory; that had been three days ago, three days in which he had worked up his courage and beaten down his ego until he could make himself go and do the right thing because, well, the truth was, they were both to blame really, weren't they? And even if he thought the balance of blame lay more toward Sirius he would fix it; they were friends, _brothers _for Merlins sake and nothing would change that.

And yet entering Sirius's newly adopted home James could not help but feel his hope dwindle. He was hit, as he walked in, by the overpowering stench of strong whiskey and the musty scent that only a damp cave could give; but that was not what made his stomach churn in a mixture of shock and anger. No, that privilege lay with the person sitting in from of him- a person he barely recognised; shoulders hunched, elbows on his knees, head bent over, was Sirius. Only it couldn't be Sirius. _It wasn't Sirius_. It wasn't the boy who had flooded the sixth year dorms with him when they were just eleven, it wasn't the boy who had teased him about his crush on goody two shoes Evans or the boy he had gotten drunk with for the first time; they had walked, or staggered more like, down the Hogwarts corridors, arms around each other and belting out the worst magical songs in history. He nearly smiled at the memory before he remembered that that was then and this was now.

And now was so much different.

And so much goddamn harder that he wanted to scream for the clocks to go back, to shout and kick and put up a fuss so that time would rewind, just rewind to a time when things were..._simple._ He gritted his teeth, resisting once again overwhelming urge throw a five-year olds tantrum and demand that things would just be _OK._

Swallowing, he glanced back at Sirius waiting for his friend to acknowledge him but Sirius seemed fixated on the glass bottle in his hand and James doubted whether he had even heard him enter. For some reason however rather than annoyance this thought brought comfort; he was relieved he realised, relieved that he wouldn't have to face Sirius now, _not yet_. Because even if he had acted as though he was ready (he had staggered in with his usual confidence), or told himself he was ready (there was a mental chant inside his head) he wasn't sure he was. He wasn't ready to understand just what was going through Sirius Blacks head, to know just how bad it was and he most certainly wasn't ready to get thumped again just for trying to help…So yes, maybe it was best if Sirius didn't notice him _just yet._

The guilt set in after that; his friend needed, well, he wasn't sure _what _Sirius needed but he needed _something_ and here he, James, was more worried about himself; about how _he_ would handle it, how he would react… whether he would end up with another bruise. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair (tiredly for once instead of with his usual arrogance) and turned to examine his surroundings, smiling slightly as he did so. They had found the cave together, he remembered, in the summer after first year when Sirius had been too afraid to go home. He hadn't said as much (Sirius never would) but James had known and the opportunity to save his new best friend from a summer with a strange family (whose letters always seemed to leave him miserable) was something he had leapt for. They had caused havoc that summer; playing pranks during his mother's dinner parties, sneaking out into the woods behind the house at night and then they had found this place, their cave. It became the place where they snuck into to escape his boring ministry parties, filled with old people who liked to pinch his cheeks, the place where they played spin the bottle with Remus and Peter and (when they were older) the place where they had gotten drunk on his father's expensive two hundred year old Muggle wine...

"We're not going to win"

The voice was rough and cracked and nearly made him jump up in fright, thankfully he didn't;_ Sirius would never have let him live it down._

"We're not going to win" Sirius repeated; "The war, I mean" he added at James confused face; "we're not going to win" he smirked; "It doesn't matter what _daddy_ says" his voice was taunting; "it doesn't matter that_ you_ believe there's enough _good_ in the world. _We're not going to win_" when he finished he gave his friend a twisted smile that held such a resemblance to Bellatrix Black that James nearly flinched.

They were silent then for a moment, both looking as though they were measuring the other up before James finally shrugged; "maybe"

Sirius raised an eyebrow, then snorted and clumsily stood; "I'm serious Potter, they're gonna win." He took a large swig from the bottle in his hand. _His new best friend, thought James._ "You wanna know why?"

James didn't answer.

"_Be…cause..."_ He dragged the word out before breaking once more into a smile; "because they're all fucking twats, but_ clever_ fucking twats and they don't give a damn about you, and they don't give a damn about destroying souls, or...or" his hands shook slightly as the bottle was raised to his lips again; "if the Malfoy's really did shag Muggles back in the day...they don't give a fucking damn! All they...all they bloody care about is themselves!" He lifted his hands up in triumph before turning to face James completely; "They're not like you, _Mr Noble_" he pointed shakily towards James; "they don't care about anybody but themselves, it's moi, me, me, _me_ when it comes to them 'cause, 'cause there selfish twats, _ok?"_

He nodded to himself before continuing; "so they, they don't care if they bloody hurt someone or if, if someone dies because of them or if, if anybody else has to...to risk…risk their damn life because of their stupid, stupid mistake…" his voice cracked and James frowned as pieces of Sirius's drunken speech pieced themselves together. He opened his mouth to intervene but Sirius, now on a role, beat him to it; "they just don't fucking care! And you know how I know? Because I'm, I'm bloody like them!" He grinned at James; _"I'm a Black, Potter!_ I'm a bloody Black"

He laughed slightly before waving his wand at his hand; a small cut appeared oozing dark red blood. Sirius held it up proudly; "this blood is a Blacks blood. I'm just fucking like them; selfish, sick, twisted. _I'm still a bloody Black!_"

And then the laughter started; harsh and manic, nothing like the laughter of the Sirius Black James knew. No, this laughter wasn't the careless laughter that came from teasing Peter, or the triumphant laughter that came after yet another successful prank, no, this laughter…this was something else. It was filled with hurt and anger and James realised suddenly, self-hatred. He clenched his jaw, for once in his life not knowing what to do or say; no quick joke would make this ok, no amount of times telling Sirius that yes, he had been forgiven for _that _night would make everything be like before…

Time seemed to freeze for James as he sat on the hard cold stone watching his friend scream with manic laughter. A torrent of emotion was overcoming him, drowning him and despite his efforts he seemed unable to do or say anything to calm his friend. James Potter was a person who smiled a great deal and laughed even more, and he had had never as much anger as he felt in that moment. He was angry it seemed at everything and everyone. He was angry at Sirius for betraying their trust in the first place, angry at himself for letting it happen, angry at Sirius's parents for fucking him up so bad, angry that Sirius still thought he was like_ them_, angry that Remus had to suffer as a werewolf, angry at Snape for well, being Snape. And then there was the guilt, guilt for not being able to stop Sirius, guilt for taking so long to forgive his friend and guilt that it had taken Sirius to run away from home and hide in a cave before he had intervened…

Eventually the laughter died out and it was only then that James could bring himself to look up; Sirius now lay asleep awkwardly and undoubtedly uncomfortable on the hard and cold floor. James sighed, rubbed a hand over his face and finally stood up (bending slightly as he did so- he was no longer a midget eleven year old and the cave was not the biggest). Slowly he made his way over to Sirius, waving his wand at the small cut on his best friends hand and waiting till the skin slowly sewed itself back together. He then set to vanishing the pile of empty Firewhiskey bottles, the sheer quantity making him wonder just how Sirius was still alive after three days of only alcohol consumption. Sighing once more he turned to gaze at his best friend; Sirius was sprawled gawkily, his head resting on the cold and undeniably hard floor- for a moment James contemplated transfiguring a rock into a pillow to ease his discomfort but just as quickly discarded the idea. Yes, he felt guilty and yes, angry at himself but Sirius himself was not guiltless and James couldn't help but think that he deserved _some_ punishment.

Smirking slightly, he reached over for the half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey, took a rather large gulp and sat back down intent on trying to make sense of just how they had ended up here. How _had_ things got so bad? He knew the answer, he realised. It had been_ his_ fault. That night, _that_ night, Sirius had been on edge- it had not been surprising; any encounter with Regulus left Sirius in a fit but the difference had been that on _that_ night Snape just _had_ to be there and so naturally just _had_ to rile up Sirius and then, well… Sirius had made the biggest mistake of his life, hadn't he?

He had betrayed them all.

James shuddered as the memories rushed back; running through the grounds, the scratches of claws on his back, the stench of blood…punching Sirius to the ground_; "what the fuck is wrong with you?"_ he had demanded and that had started the three weeks of silence and feelings of betrayal and anger that left him incapable of thinking of anything else. He had thought that would be the end; the end of the Marauders… the end of James&Sirius, Padfoot&Prongs, friends, brothers, master-mind pranksters…

Forgiveness had come with summer.

Perhaps it had been the cruel headlines of _The Prophet _that had brought the forgiveness- each another reminder of the shortness of life, or perhaps it had been because he knew _everyone _made mistakes (and no, not everyone nearly got a fellow classmate killed but Sirius had always been a bit more dramatic than everyone else, right?) or perhaps, perhaps it was because it was _Sirius Black_ and he knew him, knew he could be messed up and moody and haughty but more than anything knew he needed someone to pick him up… and knew that when the day came when _he_ needed to be picked up, needed a harsh awakening, or a forgiving friend Sirius Black was the one who would be there. But forgiveness alone had not been enough; he may have forgiven his friend but he had not been there; he had not forced Sirius to explain the bruises on his face when they had used the mirrors, he had not read between the veiled words or understood just how bad things had become in the Black home. He had let Sirius down. He understood that better than anything else because if he hadn't let him down, if he had done or said the right thing Sirius would not have ran to a cave in the middle of the night, he would have come to him, James, he would have knocked on that door and with a smirk demanded a place to stay but he hadn't. He had chosen a cave rather than telling him, James, what had happened. And that said a lot didn't it? That spoke volumes and truthfully made him feel like shit…

He swallowed and looked up to find Sirius awake and watching him.

"You're awake"

"Way to state the obvious Potter"

They looked at each other then, both opening their mouths as though to say something before they both promptly looked down allowing silence to fall once more; it was strange considering they were Sirius Black and James Potter; they caused ruckus and havoc and could make more noise than a banshee if they wanted but today…today there was only silence.

"You were wrong, you know" James finally said, looking determinedly at his scuffed trainers.

Sirius paused in his examination of the rocks behind James, anger bubbling at the surface (that was happening a lot lately); "Merlin, Potter don't you think it's about time you stop being such an optimistic fucking..."

"You're not like them" James cut over; "You're a git, and sometimes a bit of a twat and you can throw a hissy fit that'll put Margery Wells to shame but you're not like them." He spoke quickly and to the floor before he finally met Sirius's eyes; "You might have their blood but bloody hell Padfoot, you are _nothing_ like that bitch Bellatrix or your psycho mother or Regulus. You're not like them"

Silence fell again and then after a moment James resumed his examination of his trainers; "You're not like them" he said again, though quieter this time. Sirius stared, trying to desperately to get rid of the lump in his throat, before slowly nodding. James looked up and gave him a slight grin before once again turning his gaze to the floor.

Silence fell again (it really was a record for them).

But the truth was nothing could be said now. James was slowly coming to the terms of the fact that maybe they had both not been the greatest of friends lately. Perhaps when he had said he had forgiven he hadn't, not properly; perhaps that explained the insomnia that had been haunting his life for the past month and the fact he had laughed less than ever before…perhaps, he had been punishing Sirius by not letting things just snap back to the way they were…punishing himself too. And Sirius, well, he hadn't come to him but maybe it had just been too hard- maybe he really believed he was like _them. _He glanced quickly at his friend in worry, biting his lip; would just saying it, telling Sirius the truth (because it was the truth) that he was nothing like the people he shared his blood with, be enough?

Sirius Black never cried and believed he would never cry but strangely just a couple of words from James Potter and suddenly there was a strange lump fixed in his throat. He turned to stare at his friend; James, he realised, meant what he said; he had been friends long enough with the Prat to know when he was lying and James had meant _every damn word_…And somehow that made him feel..._stronger_. It was like, well, a match being lit, he supposed…because for the first time in a month he felt like… _himself_- he felt the familiar determination to prove _them_ wrong, to prove them all wrong; he was _not _a Black. He grinned; maybe he was mental or just too damn naïve but James Potter really believed that he, Sirius _Black_, was nothing like his family and Sirius suddenly realised he would do anything to make sure his friend never had to doubt that; a month ago he had made a mistake, a gigantic one that possibly didn't deserve forgiving but, he vowed to himself, it would be the first and last of its kind.

It's a strange feeling having someone believe in you and for Sirius Black, stranger than for anyone. His family, _no_, his blood relatives had sought to make him accept that he was like them for all his life, Peter was too scared of him to really believe he was different, and whilst Remus might have believed it before, Sirius knew that his friend would never really trust him again. Mr and Mrs Potter were kind enough but he was not blind to the curious and wary looks they sometimes sent his way. Nobody truly believed he was different to his psychotic family. No-one but James Potter…

"Thanks" his voice came out hoarse; "for y'know…" he shrugged slightly; "thanks for everything…for coming here the other day and telling me what a git I've been" he smirked slightly; "and I'm sorry for the…"he nodded towards James jaw where a faint bruise could be seen.

James waved a hand; "what? This" he touched his jaw lightly; "didn't feel a_ thing_!"

Sirius raised an eyebrow and James grinned; "Good to have you back, Padfoot" he stepped forward to hug Sirius and for the first time in weeks Sirius smiled; "Really Prongs, thank you" he cleared his throat and stepped back quickly- things couldn't get too emotional, after all.

James smiled back; "That's what friends are for, right?"

Sirius nodded slightly; "Want a drink?" he nodded to the final bottle of Firewhiskey, looking particularly lonely according to him but James shook his head fervently; "No! Not until you get a shower, honestly" he shook his head wincing; "you stink worse than Eric Quinn after the rooster feather accident…"

* * *

It is hard to regain faith in yourself after you've lost it and it is harder to forgive yourself when you feel you do not deserve it. Sirius had betrayed Remus, he had betrayed the Marauders and somehow betrayed himself- _"I forgive you"_ was not enough for him to regain the strength to move on and was not enough to stop the questioning of his identity but somehow, in some strange way, James Potters few words allowed him to begin to believe that no, he was not a Black.

They did not speak about what happened in the cave after that and gradually it faded from their minds. There were other things to preoccupy them; the war, for one, and NEWTS (because no matter what either of them said, they did care), and then there were pranks and being young; enjoying themselves and making mistakes; starting relationships that were damned before they had even begun, preparing for Quidditch matches, getting drunk at the celebration parties afterwards, complaining about hangovers the day after…

They lived and laughed and forgot.

James would never voluntarily remind his friend of the time when he had been at his worst and Sirius determinedly hid his worst fears behind smirks and a cocky persona. The first time he relived the memory he was eighteen and it was snowing. The soft flurries of snow was slowly basking the park in white as Sirius sat on the park bench, fag in hand and head in a mess. They were part of the Order now, supposedly making a difference. James was in a house two streets away, unconscious and recovering from his new battle scars. Sirius had been there, by his side, swearing at any one he could to help his friend, shouting at them to just take him St Mungos…who gave a damn about the questions… In the end they had banned him from the house; more havoc then help he was, said Emmeline and so there he was, on a park bench in the snow, smoking and thinking about the war that was slowly pulling their lives apart.

He knew James would pull through, his scars may have been serious (they were at the hand of _Voldy,_ after all) but he also knew that James was tough; he had seen worse, he would make it.

He let his mind wonder over the battle; the masked figures, the smoke, the dead bodies…he shuddered and felt the familiar hatred ignite within him but this time along with anger there was…fear. Not of death. Sirius Black had no intention of dying yet and the thought of his life ending filled him with more curiosity than fear, so no, that was not the cause of the sudden cold filtering through his body.

He was scared because, well, he could have been just like them…he almost was. He was born a Black, he remembered, a Black and who knew that _maybe_ if he hadn't sat in _that_ compartment when he was eleven he would have ended up _just like them_, maybe if he had never become friends with the annoying eleven year old Potter (who had never shut up) he would end up _just like them_, or maybe if he had never been forgiven….or never been told that he was _nothing like them_ then maybe, just… maybe he would have grown bitter and self-destructive and found himself eighteen and hiding behind a mask on the wrong side of the war. He shuddered again at the thought and took a long smoke. James Potter had saved his life he realised, even if neither of them had realised it at the time, he had given him…_hope_ and that had been enough to make him pull through.

He would never be like James he knew, he would never be a saint; noble and selfless, but he wasn't all that bad. He was fighting on the right side and for every mistake he made when he was younger he spent a day now fighting to make a difference and perhaps right the wrongs. His friend, brother really, had saved him and he had never done anything to repay him; never helped him in return. James Potter was not the type to have a life crisis like the rest, he had his life sorted and sorted everyone else's out, and as much as Sirius was happy and proud and grateful for that, he also couldn't help the disappointment that he would never be able to do something for James Potter, just like the boy in question had done for him.

But nobody is perfect. And although eighteen year old Sirius Black had thought James Potter would never need saving, six months and a death later, he was proved wrong.

* * *

A.N: Hello! This was written Morning Lillies' Yellow Rose Bowl friendship competition. I really hope you enjoyed reading it because even though this was one of those fics that went through so many changes that it's nearly completely different from what I originally planned, I really enjoyed writing it. I have a university interview tomorrow (fingers crossed it goes well!) but if I get home early and it hasn't drained all the energy out of me, part two should be up!

Please review :D


	2. Chapter 2

It had been six months since James had lay unconscious and Sirius had sat on a park bench, fag in hand and contemplating the _what if's_ in life. Winter, bitter cold and vengeful had finally faded and spring had come; if you wanted to be poetic about it you could talk about the blooming buds, soft wind and light blue sky hinting at new beginnings… but as it was, this was _Sirius Black_ and he had no intention, whatsoever, of being poetic about anything. In fact the thoughts that occupied his mind as he sat at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, would stain any poetic vision of an idyllic life. They were thoughts filled with darkness and death and… the reality of the past six months because although it had been James who had lay unconscious in December, they had all since had their turn; Remus had been on the receiving end of a particularly nasty hex from Bellatrix, Peter had been missing for two days before being found unconscious and bruised, Sirius himself, had been out of it for nearly a week thanks to Severus "Snivellus" Snape…

And then there had been the deaths.

And although it was perhaps harsh to admit it; no one remembered them all. There were far too many; the Ravenclaw girl Sirius had once taken on a date, the boy two years younger than them who had been obsessed with everything muggle, people they had once sat side by side with in Hogwarts, shop owners they had haggled with for a good deal...Death had become common place; so and so had been burned alive with fiend fyre, the family in Middlesbrough attacked by inferi, Voldermort himself had killed the Waltons… They blurred together; one death and then another and another and_ another_ until they became mere names on the front of the Prophet, statistics used by politicians; X-percentages of deaths Muggles or Muggleborns or Blood traitors….

It was hard, of course, when you not only lived in the horror but fought directly against it. It was hard not to become affected, not to just cry and scream when you saw the mangled body of a seven year old child or heard the death of a long lost friend. But they tried to fight past the _threatening-to-spill-out _emotions and thought Sirius, for the most part, they managed. He and James, for example, had made it their mission to merely double their efforts in the resistance at every news of a death but never, _never_ they promised would they fall into the trap of hopelessness and unserviceable tears.

But then Spring had cruelly come and not only taken away one of their own but savagely changed James Potter.

She had died in May, at the start of Spring. It had been her favourite season. Sirius frowned; how he had known that seemingly random fact he did not know but he _knew_ Spring, with its flowers and fake promises of new beginnings had been her favourite season. Dorcas Meadows, the brown eyed girl who had been a big sister to his best friend. He remembered her eyes twinkling as she teased James; _"I remember once…"_ she would start and James would blush before she had even got to the teasing. She had known him before any of them; before he, Remus, Peter or Lily had even heard of James Potter; she had babysat him (though James objected to the term) when his parents had been out and had been the designated James Watcher at any dinner party where his parents suspected he would cause havoc. She had cared for him, Sirius realised, like a big sister and James in turn, had cared for her. But now she was gone and his friend was a mess.

A missing mess.

They had been at Headquarters for over forty-five minutes you see, but though Alice and Frank and Benjy and Emmeline and every other member (save Dumbledore who was needed at Hogwarts) had arrived James and Marlene were still notoriously absent. And though at one time (an easier, better time) Sirius would not make a fuss that James was late from a mission, the way his friend had been acting for the past three weeks meant his stomach squirmed with fear. He met Lily's eyes across the room and saw his own fear reflected and after trying and failing to give her a reassuring smile turned away.

Thankfully, however, ten minutes later his stomach was permitted to unclench.

His friend had arrived, albeit not in the best condition. James was, Sirius noticed, limping, had a long gash across his forehead and singed robes. Marlene, in contrast, looked perfectly fine, not that is, counting the dust on her robes and her slightly disheveled blond hair. Sirius narrowed his eyes at this but stayed silent and like the rest of the occupants of the room continued to watch James and Marlene; they were, you see, currently in the midst of a rather loud argument.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Potter? You could have gotten yourself killed; you idiotic…"

"I saved your bloody life. How about a_ 'thank you'_?"

"THANK YOU? You want me to thank you after you ruined two months_, two months,_ of planning!"

"We got two death eaters! You're alive, I'm alive- I don't see what the big problem is!"

"The problem is we were meant to_ wait_! But no, you have to be so damn emotional!"

"_He killed her. He killed her and he was there! _What did you expect me to do? Twiddle my thumbs?"

Marlene rolled her eyes; "Yes, he was there but you damn well let him get away._ Again,_ I might add."

The room, if possible, fell into even more silence and Sirius watched as James already pale face lost even more colour. Marlene on the other hand, was slowly turning pink; "Oh James, I'm sorry. I was just angry…I…" but before Marlene could mutter any more apologies Moody reappeared from the fireplace where he been in the middle of a consultation with Dumbledore. He dusted his robes, and sent a cursory gaze around the room before pausing on the still standing James and Marlene; "Where the hell have you two been?" was all it took from him, before Marlene burst into speech.

She talked quickly, loudly and (as was usual for Marlene McKinnon) used a lot of hand gestures. Everyone listened in silence as she spoke, their eyes fixed to her and also, Sirius realised, carefully avoiding James besides her. He shook his head slightly, before focusing once more on what she was saying; from what he had pieced together from her exceedingly long speech James had volunteered to help in a stake out of a suspected death eater meeting place; the plan had been to only watch and spy. Not attack, at least _not yet,_ especially with only two of them. But James had seen Lestrange, the man who had killed Dorcas and had then seemingly lost all sense of logic. The rest, as they say, was history. Lestrange had escaped with most of the others; they had, however, succeeded in killing two death eaters but Marlene had been adamant to point out, at the expense of any future spying.

Moody had stayed silent for a few moments after Marlene had finished before barking out a few questions. He had then sighed and after giving James a look that Sirius clearly took to mean "_Dumbledore'll deal with you_", had proceeded with the rest of the meeting.

Sirius continued throughout to keep one eye on his pale-faced and obviously hurt friend, narrowing his eyes when he saw James ignore Lily's concerned gaze. James and Lily were engaged, they were also however in the midst of a fight that had started two days ago. In fact James was fighting with a lot of people at the moment; he had insulted Peter, unnecessarily argued with Remus, Frank and Benjy. It was…well, _understandable_ in a way, Sirius supposed but he had also had enough; today things would have to change; James had had his three weeks of misery, anger and downright recklessness.

"…And Evans and Black I want you in Oldham tomorrow. Nine o'clock sharp. Dumbledore's had reports of the Imperious being used there and I want you to…"

_"NO!"_

Everyone, Sirius included, jumped at James exclamation; "No, don't send…Lily doesn't need to go. She…she can't. She needs to, uh, brew that potion, the one…" he grasped at his hair and looked up at Moody; "I'll go. Let me go with Sirius… we'll check…"

"I'm perfectly able to go James" Lily spoke quietly but firmly; "The potion is done" James glared but Lily merely turned to Moody; "Sirius and I'll be there, nine o'clock"

James turned to Sirius; it was automatic, thought Sirius that he should do so; whenever a situation such as this came up they stood up for each other- James would always take Sirius's part; it had been in this very room he had shouted at Moody in his defense and Sirius was expected to do the same. And he did, usually. He backed up his friend even if he was being ludicrous (just as James did for him) because that's _what friends do_. But today at James pleading look for him to say something, anything to change Moody's mind, Sirius couldn't. Well, he could but he wouldn't. He wouldn't support James because he knew no matter what James thought he was not fit to go out. He would end up hurt yet again or worse dead so no, he would not say anything. Instead, he turned his eyes away from James and towards the vase of flowers Emmeline had placed at the center of the table- as though roses would somehow sweeten the talk of death and war.

He could feel James eyes boring into him but resolutely focused his gaze on the vase in front of him; yellow roses, they were and he nearly smiled as a memory came crashing down. "Going to propose with yellow roses, Jamsie?"

James had frowned; "Don't call me that, Dor! And yeah, they're pretty, right? And Lily hates it when she gets lilies and yellow…well, it's bright, happy, hopeful…"

"It symbolises friendship, you prat" Dorcas had said through a smile; "You're giving her a symbol of friendship and proposing…"

James eyes had widened; "what? But that's stupid. It's just a flower! It doesn't have to _mean_ anything."

Dorcas had laughed and James had suddenly turned to Sirius. Sirius had recognised the mischief in his friends eyes even before James had dramatically got down on one knee holding out the rose; "Oh Padfoot, do you take this rose and promise to be my _bestest_ friend for ever and ever?" Dorcas had clutched her stomach in laughter, Sirius had given James the finger and pushed him over; it had resulted in them struggling in a playful fight as the florist glared… "You daft prick" Sirius had called him afterwards and they had both fallen into another bout of laughter.

Neither of them had laughed like that in weeks.

* * *

The meeting eventually came to an end and slowly people began to leave; Marlene had whispered another quick "Sorry" to James that he hadn't responded to before leaving- a pitying look in her eyes. Frank had patted him on the back and Lily had ran her hands through his hair slowly; Sirius remembered a time when this small action had caused James to relax and smile lazily, today however at her touch James stiffened and Lily, trying desperately hard to hide the hurt in her eyes, left.

Finally, only the Marauders remained and after a few minutes of tense silence Remus and Peter stood up; "We're heading to the pub, want to come?"

"No" James answered without looking up.

Sirius glared at him before turning to Remus; "We'll be there in half an hour. Where you headed anyway?"

Remus gave him the name of the pub and after giving James one more curious look turned to leave, a nervous Peter following.

"I'm not going to the pub"

"You are"

"No, I'm not"

"Yes, you are"

"No, I'm not"

"Yes, you are" Sirius said in his most haughty; "_I'm bored"_ tone.

"No" James spoke through gritted teeth; "I'm not"

"Yes, you…"

"_What do you want, Padfoot?"_ James turned to look at him and Sirius smirked; "Me? I want a lot of things. Unlimited supplies to Zonko's, a better bloody Mister of Magic, oh and world peace, of course"

James glared.

"And I want the real James Potter back"

"I am the real James Potter" James said, rolling his eyes.

"Really? Because it doesn't look like it to me. In fact, to me it looks like you're being a git, a rather large git. You're rude to everyone. Don't look at me like that; it's true and now I know I'm no saint but c'mon that's_ me_, you're James bloody Potter- you don't suit the whole moody '_I'm an arsehole' _routine…"

James glared- he seemed to be doing that a lot, Sirius noted; "And…" he continued; "you're acting like a damn fool" he shook his head slightly; "you're not invincible Prongs- you can't take on every damn death eater"

"I can try"

Sirius rolled his eyes; "Yeah, and end up six feet under?"

James shrugged; "Maybe" he looked up at Sirius; "if that's what it takes"

This time it was Sirius who clenched his jaw. He stood, stared at his friend as though he had never seen him before, and then (in the same way as James had once done to him) swung his arm back and punched his friend square in the jaw.

James swore, rubbed his face, spat blood and then after glaring at his best friend for a moment, lunged. They both fell to the ground, each trying to cause more harm to the next; a punch here, a kick there…

It was reminiscent, Sirius thought, of the fights they had once had in their school dormitories, the only difference, he realised, was that then the fights would be over lost dares, or over who had the last fag and it would end, always, with both of them laughing and out of breath. But this fight, this was…vicious and when it ended and they both sat up panting there was no laughing.

"We're…we're fighting this war to live. So that the world we live in isn't so fucked up" he paused; "we're not fighting to die" At the back of his mind, Sirius realised how strange of a predicament he was in; this, giving advice, ensnaring hope, pulling the plug on pessimism…it was all James forte, not his, _definitely not his_.

He turned to look at James, realising just how much the past few weeks had damaged him; his skin was paler than usual, dark bags hung under his eyes, and a red, blazing scar that he had apparently been "too busy" to heal covered his left cheek.

"You can't…you can't carry on with this death mission" he said fiercely; "we're going to fight and kill as many of those bastards as we can but we're not going to die bloody martyrs, ok?"

When James didn't answer, Sirius continued, trying to squash the fear that was beginning to envelope him; "You dying is not going to solve anything… even if you kill a dozen death eaters while you go" he paused; "do you even give a damn about Lily while you're there acting like you're bloody invincible?"

There was silence for a few minutes then as James rubbed a hand tiredly over his face; "I…it was my fault Padfoot. It was all my fault. And I can't…I can't just carry on while that bastard is out there! He…it was all my fault" he shook his head again; "And I'll kill him, I promise you I won't let him go next time…" he clenched his fists together.

"And I'll be right there next to you when you get him but c'mon Prongs it wasn't your fault! You know that; Dorcas was an amazing fighter and she knew what she signed up for, we all did. And she died fighting…but it wasn't your fault."

But James shook his head; "I lead them, the death eaters to a corner- taunting them, thinking I was clever" he swallowed; "I thought I'd get them in that corner and there would be nowhere to go and we'd get them y'know? Moody was on the way- I could keep them there, he'd arrest them…" he ran a hand over his face; "I ended up trapping her with them…I…I killed her Sirius, I killed my own friend"

Sirius stared at his friend, unsure what to say; this was not his role; James was the fixer, James, not him, never him. "It wasn't your fault" he said again; "It was Voldermorts, definitely Voldermorts and it was this sick war and bloody Lestrange but it was not your fault"

He paused, his eyes falling once more on the vase of yellow roses; an image of the smiling Dorcas entering his mind; "She cared for you James, she really cared for you…you, you were her brother I guess, and she would never blame you. You know that, right? And I mean, imagine it was…was you…and she blamed herself- you would hate that" Sirius could feel James watching him but somehow could not bring himself to look at his friend- seeing a ghost of the old James was not an easy task.

He cleared his throat before carrying on; "you…doing this; not eating, sleeping, putting your whole life on hold. Trying to protect us all and be at every damn place, it's not helping anyone. It's definitely not helping Dorcas or this war." He turned to James again; "we're in a war James; you need to fight but you need have your head, you need to be healthy and you need to _live_ goddammit! This is what they want Prongs, they want us to fall apart but…we're going to do this; you're going to pull yourself together and we are going to win this damn war, ok?"

James nodded slowly and there was silence for a moment, each of them lost in their own thoughts before James quietly spoke; "I didn't go to her funeral. I tried…I got ready, I even apparated there but…I couldn't do it, I couldn't do it Padfoot…I haven't even been there once…"

Sirius turned to his friend and sighed; he had wanted to go the funeral, Remus, Lily, Emmeline, Alice and Frank they had _all_ wanted to go but Dumbledore had made it clear a funeral filled with Order members would be dangerous and suspicious. Only James had been granted permission; he had been a childhood friend, after all. Sirius watched the guilt on his friends face and making up his mind, quickly stood up; "come on"

James frowned; "Where?"

"You want to go visit her grave, right? Then let's go now"

James opened his mouth, looking as though he was contemplating arguing before standing up slowly. Sirius watched his friends timid movements and rolled his eyes; "Stand still" he commanded, before pulling out his wand.

They had been through enough injuries in their lives (first, helping Moony at full moons, and then in the Order) that they were more than proficient in healing spells. Within ten minutes; James could finally put pressure on his leg, the blood had been siphoned from his clothes and the cuts on his face had been sewn together. Feeling slightly more human, he grabbed Sirius's arm and apparated.

The sky was beginning to darken when they arrived at the graveyard in Manchester; the air was cool and fresh but James felt as though he was being suffocated. Breathing deeply, he slowly made his way through the graves, Sirius by his side, until they reached the one. The both stopped and stared at the marble stone engraved with the words _Dorcas Meadows, Brave fighter, loyal friend, Sweet Sister. _

James bent down his fingers lightly touching over the words; "Andrew must have chosen the words" he finally said and Sirius nodded, thinking of Dorcas's younger brother- he had hated she was in the Order; "you're going to end up dead" he had once told her and she had. Sirius felt his throat constrict; was this the fate that awaited them all? Dead before they had even lived? He watched his friend quietly murmur to the grave and shook his head; no, _no_, he would not let that happen…he clenched his jaw; it wouldn't happen- it wouldn't.

Twenty-minutes later and they were slowly making their way out of the graveyard; James had said his goodbyes, properly this time and had begun to think of his friends' words. Sirius was right, he realised, there was no time to play martyr and there was definitely no time to mope; he needed to live; life was precious. Dorcas may have died young but she had lived life to the fullest. The pain and grief of her death still hung over him, clutching to his skin but he felt…lighter in the knowledge that he would not let her death be in vain. He would not go out every day like a madman giving no thought to others; he would recover and then he would fight harder than ever.

But even as this thought came; he could not stop the familiar fear that he would lose another friend. First Dorcas… who next? Sirius, his brother who had done so much for him? Remus, who suffered so much and deserved happiness? Peter, who everyone underestimated but who always managed to get them out of tough spots? Lily? Lily, his fiancé…his life? He clenched his fists together and closed his eyes tightly;_ please, please don't let me ever live to see them die_. He did not know who he was praying to, did not if he believed in God, but he did know he would never want to feel the pain of losing a friend again. He would die before them all.

* * *

By the time they arrived at the pub it was loud and noisy. They spotted Lily first and James automatically smiled and made his way over to her. Her eyes widened in shock before she broke out into a smile and ran to hug him. Over his shoulder she found Sirius's eyes and mouthed a thank you, he gave her a wink and began to make his way over to the bar. He was about to hand over the payment for the two pints he had ordered (one of course, for James) when an arm pushed passed him and paid; "It's on me tonight, Black" said a grinning James.

"Ah well, then I'll make the most of it. Make that two more pints!" he told the barman, a smile on his face.

James rolled his eyes, before taking the seat next to him; "Thank you" he said quietly; "Thank you for taking me to the graveyard, thank you for…for well, y'know" he shrugged, a hint of pink on his cheeks.

Sirius clapped him on the back; "that's what friends are for, right?" They both grinned and lifting up the pints, muttered "cheers" and drank.

* * *

Sirius had once thought James Potter would never needed saving. He was proved wrong but rather than bring disappointment, James Potter's reaction the death of a friend merely proved something he had known all along; to James Potter friendship was everything. He was the one who had decided that since he couldn't stop his friends lycanthropy, it would be a good idea to be an illegal animagus, he was the one who had stood up to six year Slytherins for teasing Peter when they were only twelve (he had ended in the hospital wing but hadn't cared), he was the one who had forgiven and forgotten and told Sirius he was entirely not like them.

Friendship defined James Potter.

They had all been affected by Dorcas's death; Remus who had shared a love of chocolate and old books with her, Peter who had enjoyed her honest laughter at his silliest jokes, Lily who had been in the midst of planning a wedding with her help, he himself, had enjoyed hearing her tease James…

But none of them had been overcome with the same reaction as James.

Lily was used to hiding her emotions; a product, maybe, of her friendship with Snape, Remus had suffered enough to know how to deal with perpetual misery, to Peter a joke covered up any pain and he Sirius, a Black knew well enough how to hide emotions- he had been trained since childhood after all. But James, well, James held his heart on his sleeve and he felt and laughed and lived to the greatest extent. He was used to fixing them all but Dorcas had gone and he could not fix it so he tried to do what he had thought was right; fight without a second care. To some, maybe it made him weak but to Sirius it showed the true strength of his friend who would, truly, do anything for his friends.

* * *

Hi again! Hope you all enjoyed this; it was a bit depressing I guess, but everyone always writes about James helping Sirius and I thought it would be nice to see the roles reversed. Anyway, please review :D


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